Just To Live a Normal Life
by Shadowfax
Summary: You don't have to be normal to have a bad day, but it takes something extraordinary to survive one.


(reformatted 2011.6.27)

I DON'T OWN ANYTHING! ¡NADA! Not making any money either. Pooey.  
This is for anyone who's ever tried to make the best of a bad day.  
I love this quote, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the story. Except for the fact that being normal is vastly overrated. =]

_Doc:_ What did you want?  
_Wyatt:_ Just to live a normal life.  
_Doc:_ There is no normal life, Wyatt. There's just life. Now get on with it.  
_Wyatt:_ Don't know how.  
_Doc:_ Sure you do... Take that beauty and run, and don't look back. Live every second, live right up to the hilt.  
- _Tombstone_

* * *

**"Just To Live a Normal Life"**

He woke up late. His wife took forever in the bathroom and there was no hot water left. The toaster burnt his toast, he found a hair in his orange juice, the apple he bit into had a worm, and he tripped over his son's toy that was lying on the floor of the kitchen.

The absolutely normal beginning to an absolutely normal bad day.

Except the hair was blue.

Except the toaster could barely be described as such, being the product of an alien technology.

And except for the fact that "his son's toy" consisted of an artillery gun larger and heavier than Scott himself.

Why Cable insisted on bringing his enormous gun to breakfast was beyond the comprehension of most mere mortals but there it was, lying next to his chair as he sipped coolly at his cappuccino. Not looking down, trying to scrape black off his toast and fish blue out of his orange at the same time, Scott suddenly found himself lying on his back unable to move. His peaceful cappuccino moment shattered, Cable jumped up with a yell. Which victim of the collision he was more distressed about was unclear, but his stentorian bellow brought others running to the scene.

"Oh Scott!" cried Jean. "Are you all right?"

Scott- lying in soggy, orange toast, unable to feel anything below a sharp stinging pain in the middle of his back- abruptly decided that the whole situation was too much. He started laughing.

Storm thought he was hysterical and insisted that Beast sedate him. Before the order could be carried out, a half-dressed Rogue stumbled on the scene certain that Cable's yelling heralded the second coming of Christ. She managed to crash into not only Beast and Cable, but also Storm, Jubilee, and Kitty who were all standing in the doorway; Gambit caught them all before they fell. Standing in the doorway with three unconscious women in his arms, he looked inordinately pleased with himself. Perhaps that was what set Rogue off again. Things started exploding as Rogue vanished through the ceiling. Scott was still laughing.

Phoenix took charge. She instructed Gambit to put down his burden, and looked down at her prostrate husband. The laughter had subsided but only because he was gasping for air and holding his sides. She rolled her eyes. This was going to be a long day.

Feeling was returning to Scott's lower limbs as the shock to a rather main portion of his central nervous system faded. He pulled himself off the floor and helped Jean and Remy hunt down Rogue. However, they first had to find some snowshoes. Rogue had wasted no time; there was a good three feet of snow on the ground already and it was still falling thickly.

By the time they found some snowshoes hidden in a dark recess of Logan's closet, they no longer needed them. The snow was up to the eaves of the roof. They all stood staring out of the kitchen window at a solid whiteness. "Merde! Dat femme get right down ta business, non?"

"I wouldn't know anything about that," Scott murmured. That got him a dirty look from both of them. "What?" He tried to take a step back and tripped over the gun again, this time landing on top of Nathan's already prostrate form. Pushing himself up, and vowing silently to start watching where he was going, he address the mobile and conscious portion of his team. "Okay, we need to find her before all of New York State ends up looking like Hoth. Jean, can you get a read on her?"

Phoenix wrinkled her brow in concentration. "There's something... it could be Rogue... just north of where we are, and heading south."

Suddenly a deep rumbling could be heard growing louder. The walls started trembling, and Gambit and Cyclops looked around nervously. Phoenix was dead to the world, completely focused on finding Rogue. "Um, honey?" Scott touched her shoulder. "Maybe we should be moving..." Gambit shoved them both to the floor as Rogue rocketed through the window right over their heads and vanished down the hall.

They went running out into the hall after her but had to fall flat again to avoid another buzz. She came smashing back through the walls further down the hallway. Gambit jumped up and grabbed her the next time she passed by. Slowing down she turned to look at him; wasting no time, he pressed his lips against hers. For a moment she returned his embrace with an ardent passion, then he went slack in her arms. When she released him, he slid soundlessly to the floor. Looking down, a serene expression on her face, she slid down to lie beside him.

Scott got up and walked over to them. Checking to make sure Gambit still had a pulse, he gazed in a sort of shocked awe at the damage around them all. A gooey substance composed of moist plaster and melting snow collected in puddles on the floor. Scott touched the wall tentatively. The roof creaked warningly, and the whole section of the mansion to the left of them collapsed. "Aw... Damn," he mumbled feelingly. Jean came over, walking unsteadily on the slick floor. Hitting an especially slippery spot, her feet flew out from under her and she went down- but not without taking her husband with her.

"You know," he said conversationally, lying on top of her as she squirmed and tried to rub her aching butt, "this is the third time today that this has happened to me." Jean's only response was a few choice words referring to snow, and water in general, describing in detail the unsavory origins of whoever had happened to discover it. A door opened in what remained of the wall and Logan walked through; the bags in his arms evidence that he had been shopping, the snow covering him evidence of his fight to get in the front door. One eyebrow raised quizzically, he took the damp cigar from his mouth and brushed the snow from it. Giving it up as a lost cause, he looked around taking in the plaster and melted puddles and couples sprawled across the floor.

"Okay, what'd I miss?"


End file.
